Elena Vanishing Read Online Free PDF Page B

machine alarms and unhooks me from everything. “Now let me go get some plastic to cover up your IV.”
    â€œYou don’t need plastic,” I tell her. “Hand me a glove and I’ll show you.” Borrowing her scissors, I cut the fingers off the latex glove and pull the wide band that’s left up over my IV tube. “Now all it needs is a little tape around the edges, and you don’t have to worry about water leaking through the wrap.”
    â€œThat’s a neat trick,” she says. “I’m going to remember that.”
    â€œI learned it in Germany,” I say. “I volunteer at the hospital there because I’m planning on being a nurse, too. Next year, I’ll be working fifteen hours a week in the ER.”
    â€œThat’s great!” she says. “We need good nurses.”
    All my worries leave me under the hot, steamy spray of the shower. Nothing feels better than getting clean. I put on a new gown.I even get to brush my teeth. And there are fresh sheets on my bed. It’s like Christmas.
    As soon as I settle into bed, Mom comes over. She has a big smile on her face.
    â€œLook what I’ve got,” she says in a conspiratorial whisper, and she pulls a container of chocolate pudding out of her purse.
    Not pudding!
shrieks the voice in my head.
A hundred and fifty calories—more with those Oreo bits! And you need to lose weight. You don’t know your number. Who knows how much weight they’ve pumped into you already!
    But Mom looks happier than she’s looked in a long time. There’s no way I can ruin this for her.
    â€œGreat!” I say, and it takes every bit of control I have to match her smile.
    Mom and I lie on my bed together and share the pudding bite for bite.
SpongeBob
is on. How could that crazy square not distract me? But the voice in my head is relentless.
    Twenty-five grams of simple carbs
, it hisses.
Twenty-five grams at least! Insulin is flooding your bloodstream right this minute, turning sugar molecules into fat!
    The monitor shows that my heart is speeding up. I feel sweat prickling my face. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” I say, swinging my feet over the side of the bed.
    â€œI think somebody’s supposed to help you,” Mom says.
    â€œNo, I’m not that dizzy anymore. You can help me.” Quickly, I pop the leads out of the heart machine and grab my IV pole to steady myself.
    â€œNo, I think someone’s supposed to monitor you,” Mom says. “Part of the anorexia protocol.”
    But practice makes perfect, and I’m steadier on my feet than I was before the shower. Trundling the noisy IV pole, I’m across the room before she can hit the call button.
    Inside the bathroom, I lock the door and turn on the faucet at the sink.
    Get that crap out of there!
says the voice in my head.
A hundred and fifty calories! How will you face real anorexics now?
    But I can’t do it. I can’t break faith with Mom after everything she went through with Valerie. I pound my fists on my rock-hard stomach and curse under my breath. But I can’t do it. I can’t flush Mom’s pudding.
    You’re stupid
, fumes the voice in my head.
You’re a fat, stupid bitch! She wouldn’t know anyway. It doesn’t matter.
    But it does matter. It matters a lot. I won’t do it.
    Knocking sounds on the door. “Elena! Come out of there,” calls the nurse. She sounds upset, but I haven’t done anything wrong.
    â€œJust washing my hands,” I call back and open the door.
    This isn’t the blond nurse. It’s a new nurse I haven’t seen before. She’s heavyset, and she’s angry. “We have to monitor your output,” she lectures as I trundle the IV pole back to bed.
    Output? They’re monitoring my
output
?
    â€œYou shouldn’t have flushed,” she says. “You should have rung for help.”
    â€œSorry,” I say.